


The Doctor

by Theoroark



Series: Overwatch Gothic [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: ...literally, Alternate Universe - Magic, Death, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Getting Together, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-04 22:08:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16355171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theoroark/pseuds/Theoroark
Summary: Jack Morrison is an army medic. He has too few supplies, too many patients, and works alone. It's not surprising that he sees the Grim Reaper. What is surprising, though, is that when Jack talks, the Reaper listens.-A prequel story to The Huntress, informs that work but can be enjoyed on its own as well.





	1. The Reaper

The war was in its second year when the generals came to the university hospital Jack worked at and spoke with the dean. They spoke with her for fifteen minutes and within the week, Jack was on the front lines. He was given a hopelessly rudimentary alchemist’s set and a tent full of the wounded and left to his new occupation. 

 

He worked alone, he was chronically low on supplies, and new patients were brought in every day. And so he was not terribly surprised when, as he was cleaning an infected gunshot wound, he saw the Grim Reaper approaching his operating table.

 

He was however surprised that when he said, “He’s not dead yet,” the Reaper stopped. Jack stared at his table. The patient was unconscious, he hoped, at least. He looked back up at the Reaper. He was standing a few feet away. His head was a pumpkin. That struck Jack as fairly ridiculous.

 

“If I bandage his wound and keep it clean, there’s no reason he shouldn’t survive,” Jack told him. The Reaper shook his head.

 

“He’s going to die,” he said. His voice was gravelly and low and reverberated around the tent. Jack was very aware he should be afraid, but his focus was pinned to the wound on his patient’s thigh, the flecks of shrapnel and ooze of pus. And so he could not spend much time thinking about what he should be feeling.

 

“At least wait until he actually dies.”

 

“Of course,” the Reaper said. And he stood and waited as Jack worked, until the patient’s breath grew shallow and harsh. When it shuddered to a stop, the Reaper walked to Jack’s side. Jack put his tools down on the table and stared at his gloved, bloody hands.

 

“There was nothing you could have done,” the Reaper said. Jack was not sure if he was supposed to feel comforted or not. So he said nothing as the Reaper plucked the man’s soul from his body, and then disappeared.

 

-

 

The war ground on. Soldiers died, were replaced, and then those replacements died. And so Jack saw the Reaper often. He would appear and Jack would feel dread tug at his gut, look down at the person he was working on and for a moment, not know what to do, not know if he should tell them that they were about to die.

 

But he never did. He always worked right up to the death rattle. After that first encounter the Reaper did not speak for a while. But after a few months, he started making small comments again. They were benign for the most part. “It was her time,” or “This is how it has to be.” Things Jack could not argue with, no matter how angry they made him.

 

One time, he told Jack, “You did well, trying to save them.” Jack had stared at him for a moment and then he had burst into tears. The Reaper had looked away and taken the soul and left without another word. 

 

The next time Jack saw him, the patient was sleeping peacefully. He looked up and saw the Reaper and said quietly, “No.” 

 

The Reaper looked between Jack and the patient. “I know she doesn’t look like it, but she will die.”

 

“No. No, no, you have the wrong person.” 

 

“Lena Oxton, 24 years old, sustained contact with malevolent evocation magic–”

 

“No, she’s getting better, she–”

 

Lena began to cough. Jack jumped out of his chair. “I’m sorry,” the Reaper said.

 

“I can save her.”

 

“Wait–” Jack did not know if the Reaper said anything after that, he was not paying attention. He ran to Lena’s bedside and uncorked a yellow vial, and took her head in his hand.

 

“Please, Lena,” he whispered. “Please, Lena, keep it down, please.” Her eyes were rolled back and she was shaking but he poured the vial down her throat. He held her head back on the pillow until she still. For a moment, she was terrifyingly still. Then she began to breathe again, ragged but steady. Jack turned to the Reaper.

 

“You did it,” the Reaper said. He sounded absolutely stunned and Jack could not blame him, he did not think he could so much as move. “You did it. She’s not going to die.”

 

“She’s not going to die,” Jack said. He moved back to his chair and sat down, and turned to the Reaper with wide eyes. “She’s not going to die,” he repeated, starting to smile, the shock replaced with a delirious sort of giddiness. “She’s not going to die!”

 

“What’s your name?” the Reaper asked. Jack blinked.

 

“Jack Morrison.” The Reaper walked over and put a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Well done, Jack Morrison,” he said. He disappeared just as Lena began to stir.

 

-

 

After that, Jack started to talk to him more. Sober “thank you”s to the Reaper’s consoling praise, or “I know”s to his perfectly rational justifications. But sometimes it would be like the time Jack watched the Reaper pull the soul from the corpse and, in a fit of pique, pointed to the tent of the more stable sick and told him, “There’s all the people I’m making sure you won’t take,” half a smile on his face. And the Reaper would respond like the time he chuckled and told him, “Don’t work too hard, now. I like these chats.”

 

Jack had saved a couple people after the Reaper came, after Lena. Each time the Reaper had showered him in praise. He no longer felt dread when the Reaper appeared, he saw it as a challenge. And so when the Reaper appeared and said, “Jack. It’s his time,” Jack did not stop his work. 

 

“I can stabilize him,” he said. The Reaper did not respond, but Jack heard the sound of his boots scuffing against the floor. Jack worked on the man silently, applying his poultice, trying to block out the groans of pain. After an hour, the Reaper said, “Jack.”

 

Jack felt a twinge of irritation. “His condition has improved,” he snapped. “You’re really telling me he’s still going to die?”

 

“Jack,” the Reaper said, and for the first time since Jack had known him, he sounded fearful. “It’s his time. Please.”

 

“I can do this. You know I can. Just admit that you lost, okay?”

 

“Jack,” the Reaper said. Jack looked up from his work. The Reaper was walking towards him, his pumpkin head down, his hands behind his back. “We aren’t rivals. We want the same things. Most of the time when you lose, so do I.” He had reached Jack’s side, and he looked down over the patient. “But sometimes when I win, it’s a mercy.”

 

Jack looked at the patient as well. The man had been in terrible pain for weeks now, magical sores that burned in ways Jack could barely alleviate. He could not sleep, his mouth had swollen shut, Jack had to feed him by hand. There was no cure for what he had. Jack could stabilize him, give him a few more weeks. But Jack’s flasks and scalpels were out of his hands and now the man was not a patient, he was just a man.

 

Jack nodded. The Reaper reached down and pulled out the man’s soul and for the first time, Jack saw him at peace. The Reaper held the soul in his hand and hovered there awkwardly. 

 

“He’s grateful,” the Reaper said. Jack slowly pulled off his gloves and then buried his head in his hands. The Reaper disappeared.

 

And then, a few minutes later, he came back. Jack still had his head in his hands but the orange light leaked through his fingers and by now, he could simply feel the Reaper’s presence. He lifted up his head and the Reaper walked over to him and held out his hand.

 

“It’s late,” he said. “Let me walk you to your quarters.”

 

Jack pointed to the back of the tent. “I sleep right there.” The Reaper glanced over his shoulder, then gave his hand a shake.

 

“Okay. So?” Jack stared at him, snorted, and took his hand. The Reaper pulled him up and held open the tentflap for him. He stood as Jack sat down on his bedroll.

 

“Why are you here?” Jack asked.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“You shouldn’t be. You were right. It was the right thing to do.”

 

“Yes, but–” The Reaper squatted in front of Jack. It was the first time he had looked directly into the Reaper’s eyes, he realized. He could see shadows in the orange light within the pumpkin, but could not make anything out. “I know how much you care about your patients,” the Reaper continued. “I know how hard you try. I meant what I said. I want you to do well.” 

 

“I know,” Jack said. He looked past the Reaper, to the canvas walls and the rifle leaning up against them. “I know you’re not my enemy.”

 

The Reaper nodded and, after a moment’s hesitation, sat down on the bedroll next to Jack. Jack looked over at him.

 

“It’s kind of weird having this conversation with a pumpkin, you know.”

 

The Reaper laughed softly. “Who would you like to have it with?” Jack closed his eyes and leaned back against the canvas.

 

“An actual human, maybe?” The Reaper did not respond. Jack opened his eyes and when he did, there was a man sitting beside him, with dark skin and orange eyes and a well-trimmed beard. 

 

“I’m still not actually human. But.” 

 

“Oh.” Jack sat up straight again. The Reaper smiled. “Why don’t you do this all the time?” he asked. 

 

“Kids like the pumpkin better,” the Reaper said. Jack laughed and shook his head, leaning back again.

 

“Of course. Of course that’s the reason.” The Reaper looked at him quizzically and that made his eyes crinkle. Without thinking, Jack scooted closer and reached out and touched the Reaper’s cheek. It felt and looked like real hair and skin. 

 

The Reaper’s orange eyes went wide. Jack considered telling him that had not been why he had touched him, that had not been his intent, but very suddenly he did not want to. Jack leaned in and kissed him. The Reaper gently pushed him back.

 

“You’re not in a good place,” he said. Jack laughed.

 

“When, in the past year, have I ever been in anything approaching a good place?”

 

“You had a terrible night. You’re not thinking things through.”

 

“I don’t care.”

 

A touch of the Reaper’s smile had returned. “Do you always rush into things like this, without thinking?” he asked.

 

“No,” Jack said. Then he kissed him again and this time, the Reaper kissed him back. He let Jack take off his cloak and Jack ran his fingers down his arm, still surprised to feel skin. Jack tugged at his belt and the Reaper let him pull him down, so he was lying on top of him. 

 

“What do you want?” the Reaper murmured. His lips were right next to Jack’s ear, and Jack registered that he was not breathing. He put on the hand on the Reaper’s chest and felt the utter absence of a heartbeat. 

 

“You always know the answer, don’t you?” Jack asked. “You tell me.” The Reaper laughed. He sank down Jack’s body and pulled down his pants, and rested his head on his thigh for a moment before he took Jack in his mouth. Jack brushed his hand against his hair, which still felt so soft and real, and tried not to think.

 

-

 

Jack was woken in the middle of the night by the Reaper moving. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. The Reaper was sitting on the edge of the bedroll, putting his clothes back on. The pumpkin was back.

 

“Still not innu it,” Jack muttered. The Reaper jumped and turned to him, putting one gloved hand on his arm.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I have to go back to the Plane of Death.” Jack nodded blearily. “I’ll come back as soon as I can, though.”

 

“Okay,” Jack said. 

 

The Reaper said nothing for a moment, just traced a finger up and down Jack’s arm. “I’m sorry,” he said finally.

 

Jack fell back onto his pillow. “Dun be,” he slurred. “Was good.” When he opened his eyes, the Reaper was not there, so he shut them again and went back to sleep.

 

The Reaper was still not there when he woke. He woke up naked, and that was some evidence that last night had not been a dream, though Jack supposed he may have just gotten drunk. He turned it over in his mind as he dressed and found that while there was no reason for him to believe that last night had happened, he did, absolutely unshakably. 

 

And sure enough, later that day, he was operating on a patient who was quickly dying. And when the Reaper appeared, he was holding flowers. Jack momentarily paused in his work and the patient looked up, and then his eyes widened.

 

“Oh,” the patient said. “It’s too bad I have to die, but, well. It’s a nice gesture.”

 

The Reaper looked between the flowers, the patient, and Jack. Jack stared at him unwaveringly.

 

“Yes,” the Reaper said finally. “These are for you.” He laid the flowers on the man’s chest and he reached up with shaking arms to grip them. The Reaper coughed and stepped back. “Well then. Ah. When you’re ready.”

 

When the Reaper came back from ferrying the soul, the flowers were in a cup on Jack’s desk. The Reaper shook his head.

 

“What?” Jack said. “You were going to give them to me anyway.” The Reaper shook his head again. “It’s not like he was using them.” The Reaper sighed and tutted, shaking his head slowly. Jack threw a cork at him.

 

-

 

After that, the Reaper came between patients. He would sit on the operating table and chat with Jack as Jack finished whatever busywork he had left. He would often stay the night. He always brought Jack flowers.

 

The Reaper always appeared with a pumpkin head, and shifted into the bearded man when Jack greeted him. One night, Jack asked him, “Is that really you?” The Reaper’s brow creased.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, this face–” He touched the Reaper’s cheek, and the Reaper half-closed his eyes. “–whose is it? Were you human once?”

 

The Reaper was silent for so long that Jack did not think he was going to answer, but finally he said, “Yes.” Jack waited and after a moment he continued. “I haven’t been human for a long, long time, Jack. Millennia.” He turned on his side, so he was fully facing Jack. “I was alive when we found the gods, and wrote them down.”

 

“So how did you…?”

 

“My daughter was sick,” the Reaper said, and for the first time in a long time, Jack felt dread in his presence. But he had started this and he could not back out now. “My daughter was sick and I was a powerful wizard. I tried everything to heal her. But she wouldn’t get better. But she was so young, Jack.” His orange eyes shown and Jack put his arm around him. “She was so young and so when the Goddess of Death came to collect her, I begged. And when that didn’t work, I bargained. I told her that I knew how to carry souls between planes. That I could help her collect all the souls of the dead. We were all so young then, Jack,” he said. The Reaper shut his eyes. “The Goddess was plucking souls herself. She needed help. And so she accepted. I would help her, and my daughter would live.”

 

Jack pulled him in close and the Reaper buried his face in his chest. “I’m sorry,” Jack said.

 

“Don’t be,” the Reaper said, his voice muffled. “The Goddess is good. She’s offered to let me pass, many times. I’m not working against my will. I love working with her, I love her. I just haven’t been human in a long time.”

 

“But what about your daughter?”

 

The Reaper opened his eyes and looked up. “She died eventually, like humans do,” he said. “I collected her soul, and we saw each other again. I offered her a job like mine. And we talked about it, but she decided that she had done good in this world, and she was ready for the next one.”

 

Jack stroked the back of his head and he was very aware that asking questions here was a dangerous exercise, but something about the Reaper kept him from thinking things through. “Were you disappointed?” he asked.

 

The Reaper did not answer for a while, and Jack’s throat was tight. Finally, he said, “I was so, so proud of her. She was everything a parent could have wanted. But yes. I suppose you’re right. I was disappointed, too.”

 

“Do you miss her?”

 

“It’s been millenia.” Jack could feel the Reaper’s eyelashes fluttering against his chest. “But yes. I suppose I do.”

 

Jack closed his eyes and held the Reaper tight and kissed the top of his head. The Reaper wriggled in closer to him. Usually the two of them could hardly fit on the tiny bedroll but right now, Jack felt perfectly contained. 

 

“You said the kids like the pumpkin better,” he said. The Reaper nodded into his chest. “Okay,” Jack said. “I get that. I like the pumpkin too.”

 

-

 

Three years after Jack had been drafted, the war ended. Jack did not go back to the hospital. He moved to the city and bought a little house, and people in the neighborhood would come to him when they were sick and paid him what they could. He grew mint on the windowsill and got a dog. The Reaper came every day, unless he had pressing business. Whenever he returned, he brought Jack flowers.

 

One day, Jack was helping his neighbor bring in firewood, and she joked, “Why isn’t your husband helping out?” 

 

Jack nearly dropped the logs he was carrying. “My what?”

 

“The, uh– the man, who’s at your house a lot?” His neighbor suddenly appeared nervous. “I’m not, ah, spying on you, he just walks Sadie sometimes, and he’s said hello to me– I didn’t think–”

 

“Oh,” Jack said quickly. “No. You’re right. I’m not upset with you.” He readjusted his grip on the firewood and continued walking. “He’s just. Ah. Not my husband.”

 

His neighbor studied him for a moment, then patted his arm. “Just be patient, dear. He’ll get there.” Jack nodded a bit more vigorously then he needed to.

 

When he relayed this story to the Reaper, the Reaper laughed. “Thin woman, short curly hair?” he asked. Jack nodded. “Oh yeah, Jasmine. She’s nice. Tell her I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help.” He turned back to the kitchen counter and continued chopping potatoes. Jack drummed his fingers on the table.

 

“Are you my husband?” he asked abruptly. The Reaper set down the knife.

 

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. 

 

“You basically live with me,” Jack said. “You walk my dog and help cook dinner and I’m not seeing anyone else.” The Reaper shook his head when Jack paused with an implied question, and Jack continued. “You tell me you love me,” he said. “And I love you. So?”

 

The Reaper walked to Jack and knelt down, and held out his hand. Jack raised an eyebrow. “You have a ring ready?”

 

“In a sense,” he said. Which was an objectively worrying response, but Jack gave him his hand, because he did not think things through around the Reaper. The Reaper traced a circle around his ring finger and for a second, it burned terribly and brightly. Then the light faded and there was an orange circle left. Jack felt it with his other hand.

 

“I don’t know if you wanted a ceremony,” the Reaper said. “And I don’t know if I could give you that. But I can give you this.” Jack looked up and saw fear on his face again. He smiled gently and reached out and touched his cheek.

 

“I love it,” he said. “I love you.” The Reaper beamed and Jack stumbled down from his chair, and pressing down on him. The Reaper went with him, let him push him until he was lying on top of him. Jack felt the rumble of his laughter through his chest.

 

“You know,” Jack said. “When I give Jasmine your apologies, she’s probably going to ask your name. And I don’t think she’ll believe ‘the Reaper.’”

 

The Reaper was silent for a moment, running his fingers through Jack’s graying hair. “You can call me Gabriel,” he said at last.

 

“Gabriel,” Jack repeated, tasting the name on his tongue, seeing how it felt. “I like it,” Jack told him, and Gabriel smiled and kissed him.


	2. The Corsair

Jack waited until he had not seen Gabriel for a week. Then he asked his neighbor to watch his dog, collected his savings, and made for the nearest Temple of Death.

 

The golem guarding the temple would not allow him in at first. “The Goddess is busy,” he said, floating eerily, his skull-painted face unmoving. Jack held out a bag filled with coins.

 

“I’ll buy the most expensive sacrifice,” he said. The golem shook his head.

 

“There is something bigger at work. Your prayer will not be heard.”

 

“Then what’s the harm of me saying it?”

 

Jack took a breath, trying to control his temper. The golem considered him, his fingers steepled. After a moment, he floated out of the way. “Don’t waste your money,” he said. “A chicken will do you as good as a cow.” Jack nodded and walked past him, and he thought he heard the golem say “Peace be upon you,” as he passed through the stone archway.

 

He bought a chicken from a boxy purple and gray golem in the temple’s atrium. A four legged golem lifted the barrier, and the altar room door appeared before him, orange light seeping out into the atrium. He walked into the altar room, nearly dropping the chicken as the barrier sprung up again behind him. The altar was low and square and the orange light seemed to bleed out from its very core. Jack held the chicken down on its surface, pulled out his knife, and slit its throat. The blood dribbled out and Jack cleared his throat.

 

“My name is Jack Morrison, and I need to speak with the Goddess,” he said. There was no response. The blood had started to pool around the bird. “I married your Reaper,” he said. “And he’s gone missing. I need you help.” The chicken made its last desperate movements, and the room was utterly silent. Jack shut his eyes. “Please,” he said, his voice cracking. “Just tell me what’s going on. That’s all I need. I just need to know what’s happened to Gabriel.” 

 

And Jack heard a voice, at once welcoming and viscerally terrifying, say, “Open your eyes.” He did, and standing behind the altar was a woman in black clothes, a billowing cloak lined with orange light, and a black mask with orange jack-o-lantern markings on it. She was short, Jack could tell that that was objectively true, but she was an overwhelming presence and her cloak seemed to stretch to the corners of the room. Now that Jack had opened his eyes he could not take them off her. She stepped on to the altar.

 

“You’re Jack Morrison,” she said. He nodded. “You married my Reaper,” she said. He swallowed, and nodded again. She stared at him for a moment, then sighed. “Then I need your help,” she said.

 

-

 

The Goddess’s cloak settled to the floor as she told Jack about how her Reaper had gone to the mortal plane to collect souls, started to send out a distress call, and then been silenced. Jack stayed kneeling and he was not a young man anymore, so his knees grew sore as he heard how the Goddess had gone to him but found nothing but a massive signature of dark magic.

 

“Okay,” Jack said. “Okay. But what do you need me more? How can I help?”

 

The Goddess was silent for a moment, her masked face utterly inscrutable. Then she said, “I am not satisfied with letting others do my work for me. Not with him. I want to search myself. And you’re his husband. If anyone can guide me to him, it’s you.”

 

“But your priests, surely they’ll follow you, I doubt I can help more than them–”

 

“I don’t want them to follow me,” the Goddess said. “I’m disguising myself as a human. Whoever took him knows I am furious.” The air around her grew cold, and goosebumps crawled over Jack’s skin. “They will be expecting me. I do not want to give myself away until I’m ready to strike. So.” She fixed Jack in her piercing orange stare, and he unconsciously leaned back. “I am going to adopt a human form, and we are going to find him together.”

 

“But–”

 

The Goddess sighed. “I thought this was what you wanted. To know what happened to him. Why are you arguing with me?”

 

Jack looked down at his aching knees and thought about that. She was right and he knew, and had known, that he would go with her. But she scared him. Not because of any fear for his life, he had known Gabriel did not interfere with the natural courses of life and death and he could not imagine the goddess would be different. But something about her immense power, and the fact that she already knew more about him than he could ever hope to learn about her, deeply unsettled him. 

 

But he knew he would go with her. So he stood, wincing as he did. “Okay,” he said. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

 

The Goddess shed her cloak and took off her mask. She looked like an older woman, with dark skin and a long white braid. One of her eyes was tattooed and the other glowed bright orange. She looked up at Jack and smiled. 

 

“I look human, right?”

 

“Okay,” Jack said slowly. “So, this is how I can help.”

 

He got the Goddess to wear an eyepatch over her bright orange eye. He convinced her to change as well– her all black clothes seemed almost unearthly– but when he turned back around and saw her baggy clothes and torn black cape, he winced. 

 

“You kind of look like a pirate,” he told her. 

 

“I meet a lot of those,” she said. “Not exactly a secure job.” She snapped her fingers. “That can be my cover story! I’m an old corsair, back from the high seas, looking to meet back up with an old friend.”

 

“I don’t–” The Goddess stood and briskly walked past him, towards the exit of the altar room. “Okay, then. Sure.”

 

The two golems in the atrium looked at them strangely as they passed, but the floating golem at the door simply nodded. When they reached the foot of the temple stairs, the Goddess turned to Jack. 

 

“I want to go back to the place where he was taken,” she said. And before Jack could respond, an orange portal appeared in front of them. She looked back. Jack was quite aware his mouth was hanging open. “Right,” she said. “You people forgot how to make hard light. A pity.”

 

The Goddess stepped through the portal. Jack looked back up the temple, to the floating golem. He gave Jack a thumbs up. Jack took a breath and stepped through the portal. 

 

The portal let them out on a dirt road in a wide-open field. It was late September and so the grass was still tall and green, and the sun was still hot. The Goddess was standing a few feet away.

 

“Do you feel anything?” she asked.

 

“What? No. I’m just a human, I don’t even know magic–”   
  


“It’s alright,” she said, cutting him off. “I don’t either. Even the traces are gone now.” She turned back to face him. “I just thought I’d try.”

 

It was bizarre, looking at a goddess who had a human face, Jack thought. Because in her true form, she had given away nothing. But the Goddess looked sad now, her frown lines were accentuated and her tattooed eye was half-closed. Jack waded through the tall grass towards her. 

 

“It’s alright,” he said. “Gabriel’s strong, and you’re a goddess. We’ll find him.”

 

“I know,” she said. Her face went neutral once more, and she turned her back to him and opened a portal. Jack cleared his throat.

 

“By the way, a– the Reaper, he told me to call him Gabriel, that’s what I meant–”

 

“I know,” the Goddess said, and then she stepped through the portal. Jack followed her and when the orange light cleared from his vision, he found himself in a familiar place. 

 

“This is the university,” he stated, looking around the empty lecture hall, at the ivy-covered brick buildings visible through the window.

 

“I thought you didn’t know magic,” the Goddess said.

 

“I don’t. I worked at the hospital here.” The Goddess did not seem to be paying attention, and had her hand on the doorknob before Jack caught up with her. “Wait. Hang on. Why are we here?”

 

“The soul Gabriel was going to collect was a student here,” the Goddess said. “I want to ask around. See if anyone knows anything about him.”

 

“Okay, but– wait. Let’s talk about this first.” The Goddess raised an eyebrow. “You’re a human right? We need to go over your backstory, so no one gets suspicious.”

 

“I told you. I’m an old corsair–”

 

“Looking for your friend, yeah, I remember. What’s your name?”

 

The Goddess stared at him blankly. “My name,” she repeated.

 

“Yes. Name’s are a thing most humans have.”

 

“Quite. Ah.” She paced a few steps away from the door, her hands behind her back. “Pharah?” she said after a moment.

 

Jack frowned. “That’s kind of a weird name.”

 

“No it’s–” She shook her head. “Fine. Sam?”

 

“That’s usually a man’s name, but–”

 

“No, no, then, hang on.” She paced for a minute more. Jack waited. “What about Ana?”

 

“Sure,” Jack said. “That works.” She smiled triumphantly and made for the door, but Jack moved in front of it once again. “Okay so– who are we going to talk to?” 

 

“Whoever seems useful,” Ana said, and pushed her way past him. Jack gave up and half jogged to catch up with her as she made her way down the hallway at a brisk pace.

 

“I think we should go talk to the dean,” he told her, as they exited the building. He scanned the quad. The beginnings of the sunset were forming in the sky, and there was a light bustle of students making their way to their evening classes or heading home. “I don’t know the new one, but Dr. Guillard was a very intelligent woman, so–” 

 

He turned to where Ana had been and she was not there. He looked past where she had been and saw her sitting on a bench, talking to a crow.

 

“Ana,” he hissed. She did not respond. “Ana!” he repeated, hurrying closer. Ana and the crow both looked up at him. 

 

“He’s already given us a breakthrough,” Ana informed him. “He was just telling me about how some of his friends found a dead human, but when they landed to eat, the meat was bad. No blood. Either our target has vampiric capabilities, or there’s a completely unrelated coven running around, for the first time in decades.”

 

“That’s very nice,” Jack said in a strained whisper. “But I feel the need to remind you that you are human, and that humans cannot talk to birds.” 

 

The crow cocked his head and looked Jack over, then squawked. Ana giggled, and whispered something to it. Jack felt his face heat up. “What did he say?”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Ana responded, still giggling a bit. The crow gave another loud squawk and her laughter redoubled. Jack crossed his arms.

 

“Right. Well. I’m going to go try to talk to the Dean. You two enjoy yourselves.”

 

“Oh, alright, hang on!” Jack heard the flutter of wings and in a moment, Ana was by his side. “You don’t even know the name of the victim,” she reminded him.

 

“I could have figured something out,” Jack muttered. Ana smiled benignly.

 

“Lúcio Correira dos Santos. 26 years old at time of death. Studying bardic traditions here.”

 

“Alright.” Jack glanced around the campus, emptier and darker than it had been even minutes before. “Well, if the dean’s not here, we can check the conservatory.” He held the door open for Ana, who marched through and up to the front desk.

 

“We’re here to see the Dean,” she announced. The bored-looking student manning the desk did not look up from their book.

 

“You can’t,” they said, and flipped the page. Ana leaned towards them and Jack winced and ran up to her.

 

“Sorry about that,” he said quickly, ignoring the poisonous look Ana was now directing at him. “What she meant is, we’re Lúcio Correira dos Santos’s grandparents, and we were sent to see how you were investigating his disappearance. We were hoping the Dean could help.” He gave the student a placating smile. “His parents are quite litigious, but I went here, and I want to let them know you’re doing everything you can.”

 

“That’s nice,” the student said. They still had not looked up. “But you can’t see the Dean.” 

 

Jack’s smile disappeared. “Why not?” Now, they looked up, and Jack suddenly saw something dire in their apathy.

 

“Because no one’s seen him for over a week.”

 

“So,” Ana said, as they exited the building. “The conservatory, then?” 

 

“I– no, hang on.” The quad was completely empty now, and Jack sat down on a bench and rubbed his temple. Ana stood over him. “So there are vampires, a student here was killed, and the Dean’s missing now– maybe the Dean’s the one behind all this?”

 

“No,” Ana said. “He would have given a cover story then, not just disappeared.”

 

“So is he another victim, then?”

 

Ana shrugged. “Maybe. I can’t keep track of everyone who dies here.”

 

Jack stared at the cobblestone sidewalk. “There are thousands of students enrolled here,” he said. “And hundreds of staff. We can’t possibly investigate them all.”

 

“So we don’t,” Ana said. “We start at the conservatory. We find out who Santos’s friends were. We talk to them. We follow any leads they gives us. We’ll be methodical and smart about it. And,” she nodded up to the sky, and the black bird flying overhead, “we’ll have some help on surveillance.”

 

“Right.” Jack said, still staring down. Ana started walking towards the conservatory anyway and so he said, before the moment escaped him, “How many people die here?”

 

She turned back to him, and now she looked confused. “I just told you. I don’t keep track.”

 

“But you must have some idea.”

 

“You worked at a hospital, right? Shouldn’t you too?”

 

“Yes, but–” He stood and walked over to her. He was still taller than her, he dimly recognized, and she still felt far larger than him. “Just knowing the deaths I knew, it sat with me. Every doctor, we told each other stories about friends of friends who killed themselves, because they couldn’t take it anymore. It doesn’t bother you?”

 

“I’m the Goddess of Death, Jack.” She set her hand on his shoulder and it was not quite as warm as it should have been. “Death isn’t a bad thing to me. It’s… the air I breathe. To take it away would be the real tragedy. Being able to die, being able to pass over, it’s a privilege. It’s what I protect.” She frowned. “You’re married to Gabriel. Surely he felt the same?”

 

“Yeah,” Jack said. “He did.” Ana looked at him oddly and then started walking towards the conservatory. After a moment, Jack followed her.

 

-

 

They checked at the conservatory, and with Santos’s friends, with his family. They knocked at the door of Dr. Lacroix’s mansion, and got no response. Ana spoke with her priests and sent them scouring the countryside, and she and Jack went out as well.

 

And so Jack found himself by a campfire in the woods near the outskirts of Adelsbrunn, a week into the search, when Ana asked, “What do you think happened to Gabriel?”

 

Jack looked at her over the fire. Her eyepatch was off and her orange eye outshone the flames she was staring down at. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe there’s someone who doesn’t want someone to die. So by incapacitating him, they’re putting off that death.”

 

“No,” Ana said flatly.

 

“No?”

 

“No. They would know I could collect the soul as well. Maybe if someone contacted me to ransom him. But no one has.”

 

“Then what do you think happened?” Jack asked.

 

“I don’t know,” Ana replied, and said nothing else. She did not take her eyes off the fire. And Jack knew she was a goddess, knew she was terribly powerful, the air around her was unrelentingly heavy. But Jack was so tired. It had been two weeks since he had seen his husband, and a week since he had accepted that something awful had happened. He was so tired and he was so angry and he did not care that she was a goddess anymore.

 

“Why did you take me with you?”

 

Ana looked up quickly at his sharp tone, and narrowed her eyes. “I told you. You know Gabriel. You can help me.”

 

“That’s not true,” Jack said. “You’ve ignored any ‘help’ I’ve offered, hell, you’ve ignored me period, a lot of the time. You have your priests, Hell, you’re a fucking goddess. You don’t need me at all. Why didn’t you just tell me that something happened to Gabriel, and send me on my way?”

 

Ana was silent for a minute. She was not meeting his eyes again. “Did Gabriel ever tell you why to call him that?” she asked finally.

 

“What? No.”

 

“It’s his name,” she said. Jack rolled his eyes.

 

“Yeah, somehow even I figured that one out.”

 

“No, Jack. It’s his  _ name _ .” She looked up again. “It’s his real name, his true name. You’re the first human to have known it in thousands of years. And I know he stayed with you often, and you used to work at the place that the victim who used as bait attended school– did you ever refer to him as Gabriel, to other people?”

 

And Jack remembered the fundamental bits of magic he picked up just from hearing students talk or at faculty parties or in the basics covered in high school. He remembered hearing how one could bind a nonhuman being if one was very skilled, and if one knew their true name. Jack buried his head in his hands.

 

“I did this to him,” he said. He heard Ana shuffling a little towards him and he curled in on himself further.

 

“You didn’t make this– whoever this is– bind him, you didn’t put that in their heart, it’s not your fault–”

 

“But it is,” Jack said hollowly. “They wouldn’t be able to bind him if they didn’t have his name. I’m the only one who could have given it to them. And that’s why you brought me. Because this is my fault, so I fucking better help clean up.”

 

“No, Jack–” Ana sounded worried now and Jack truly could not bear to look at her. He barred his arms around his head. “I knew Gabriel would want you here.” 

 

“I know,” Jack said. “You don’t want him to be married to someone who betrayed him, and then did nothing to help him. You wanted him to be happy. I know you love each other. You’re a good friend to him, Ana. I’m glad he has you.” She made a little noise and just like that, Jack began to cry. “I need to be alone now,” he said, trying and failing to keep his voice steady. “Can I please be alone?”

 

He heard Ana stand and leave. When he felt she was gone, he moved to his cot and curled up and he let himself sob in earnest. He cried for about an hour. Then, when he had been reduced to dry hiccupy noises, he heard, “Jack.”

 

He looked up. Ana was standing there. He wiped his face with his sleeve.

 

“I did leave,” she said. “I promise. But I wanted to come back.”

 

“Okay,” Jack said. She sat down next to him. He did not move.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have brought it up like that.” Jack nodded. She brought her knees up to her chest. “I just miss him, Jack.”

 

“I know,” he said.

 

“No, you don’t.” He saw her wince. “Sorry, I just…” She sighed. “I’m a goddess, Jack. And you’re a human.”

 

“I know.”

 

“You have people everywhere around you,” she said. “Even if Gabriel never comes back, you’ll have parents, siblings, friends, neighbors. No one can replace anyone, but humans always have ways to build new homes, when the old ones go away. I don’t have that, Jack. I have the souls who enter my plane and then almost immediately pass on, the undead criminals in my dungeon, and Gabriel. And none of the former can quite take the latter’s place.” She let out a warbly little laugh. “I love Gabriel, Jack, you’re right. And I know you love him too, I know you miss him too, if you want to talk about how you miss him, tell me. But I just need you to know– I miss him so much. I don’t like being this alone.” 

 

Jack considered telling her just that. That he missed Gabriel terribly, that the uncertainty of what had happened to him was almost unbearable, that the memories that used to bring him joy hurt now. But he did not want to talk about that right now and besides, he imagined Ana knew. So he did not say anything. He put his hand on Ana’s arm and tugged lightly. She looked down at him and her eyes widened in recognition. She lay down next to him and Jack pulled the blanket over her and wrapped himself around her.

 

They were both silent for a while, then Jack spoke. “You know,” he said. “I’ve now spooned two immortal beings. That’s two more than I ever thought I would.”

 

“If you don’t like it, you can leave,” Ana said. Jack shook his head and smiled softly, and wriggled closer. 

 

When Jack woke up, Ana was not there. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and saw her speaking to a small murder of crows. Her face lit up when she saw him.

 

“Jack,” she said. “Jack, come listen to this!”

 

“‘umans still can’t talk to birds,” he muttered. 

 

“They found a dead body,” she said excitedly. “And it had blood in it!”

 

“Okay?”

 

“But it had the tooth marks of a vampire!” Ana said. One of the crows flapped on her arm. “Whoever this is, they went after Gabriel for a reason. It wouldn’t make sense to turn my Reaper into just any vampire. Of all the beings in the world, he has unique capabilities–”

 

Jack sat up straight. “The souls.”

 

“Exactly.” Ana stood and knelt beside him. “They took him to steal their souls. And he’s in Adelsbrunn.”

 

“That’s so close,” Jack said. Ana nodded and leaned in and hugged him. After a moment, Jack wrapped his arms around her as well.

 

“We’re going to find him, Jack,” Ana whispered.

 

“Yeah,” Jack said. “We are.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to Kate (Lelianassong) for giving me the series name! Next part will probably come after chapter 8 of The Huntress, and focuses on Jack and Ana.
> 
> I'm @tacticalgrandma on tumblr/twitter if you want to talk to me there.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and any comments/kudos would mean the world to me!


End file.
